Triad
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
Copyright © 2016 Cyndi Friberg
Cover art by Dar Albert
Editor: Mary Moran
Electronic Book Publication, December 2016
Trade Paperback Publication, December 2016
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
Version 1b
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Praise for Beyond Ontariese
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Operation Hydra
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City of Tears
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Triad
Cyndi Friberg
Battle Born, Book Nine: Letos, a notorious technomage, along with the other two members of the Triad must calm the people of Rodymia and prove that a new kind of government can work for a planet that has only known tyranny. As if that’s not challenging enough, into his life strolls Mirella, the enigmatic Bilarrian Ambassador. Letos wants her with an all-consuming passion, yet he senses deceit, and one wrong move at this point could reignite the fires of war.
Mirella has lived her entire life in the shadow of others. She is sent to Rodymia under false pretenses, never expecting to encounter her mate. But once she sees Letos, inhales his scent and experiences his taste, her heart will accept no other outcome than bonding with the other half of her soul. She knows he wants her too, but can their budding affection survive her deception? Or will the secrets hidden in her past destroy any hope of peace between their worlds?
Note to Readers: This book contains detailed descriptions of sizzling passion only suitable for mature readers.
From Cyndi: Battle Born is a fully integrated sci-fi series. Each romance is resolved within the given book, but many plot elements continue on from story to story. For this reason, it’s best to read the books in order. Enjoy!
Table of Contents:
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Epilogue
Chapter One
Triumphant
Rodyte controlled space
With a frustrated sigh, Xorran Blytor pulled off his helmet and tucked it under his arm. This was the fourth time this week Apex General Paytor had summoned him back to base in the middle of a training exercise. The new recruits were young and hopelessly inexperienced. Most had been rejected before the rebels flew off to Earth with two-thirds of the Rodyte military. Xorran could no longer afford to be as choosy as he’d once been, which made training even harder. And still AG Paytor expected him to make the new class of soldiers battle ready in two short weeks. The goal was unrealistic at best, utterly impossible with all these interruptions.
The Triumphant was massive, the largest and most technologically advanced ship Rodymia had ever built. Still the path from his assigned docking bay to Paytor’s office had become so familiar he could complete the trek in his sleep. Two decks up, turn right, two left turns and stop in front of the third door down on the right. Each man he passed quickly pressed his back against the wall and lowered his gaze. No spaceship could operate without discipline. Still, the show of deference always made him feel slightly uncomfortable.
Well, you better get used to it, his inner voice nagged. You’re First Officer aboard the Triumphant, second only to Apex General Paytor himself. Xorran had fought hard for every promotion and proved himself during countless engagements. So why was it so hard for him to accept that he deserved the recognition?
He stepped in front of the door to AG Paytor’s office and waited as the beam scanned his face. The computer announced his arrival. Paytor must have authorized his entrance because the door parted, allowing him inside. The office wasn’t large, but the furnishings were nice, the entire room well-organized and immaculate.
Paytor sat behind his desk and motioned Xorran forward. “I have a special assignment I can only trust to you.”
Rather than taking a seat, Xorran stood behind the chairs and tried not to let his frustration show. “I have an assignment, sir. One we both agreed is vitally important.”
Paytor was career military and looked the part. His posture was stiff, back straight, chin slightly lifted. His deeply lined face only made him look more intimidating and authority radiated off him in tangible waves. He made a dismissive gesture, then pushed back from his desk. “Anyone can make those puppies into war dogs. This mission requires finesse.”
Finesse? What in creation made Paytor think of him in the same sentence with finesse? He was a warrior. He’d never known anything else. Search and destroy were his only mission parameters. “I think I’m better suited to—”
“You haven’t even heard the details yet. Now sit down and pay attention.”
Reluctantly, Xorran sat.
“When those battle born bastards captured Quinton, they created a massive vacuum that must be filled as soon as possible.”
Xorran narrowed his eyes, unsure where Paytor was headed. Quinton had been incompetent and corrupt. Paytor might well be the only person alive who was upset by his removal. “I thought that’s what the Triad was for.”
“The Triad?” he scoffed. “Do you mean Bandar Nox, aka General Nox’s puppet; Letos, failed spy for the Integration Guild; and Haven Tandori, former mistress of a disgraced guild master? None of them are qualified to rule our planet. We need someone who will intrigue the masses yet have a pedigree impressive enough to calm the elite.”
“And you know such a person?” He couldn’t quite hide his doubt. The only person the elite would unanimously accept was a Keire and to his knowledge, Quinton was the last living member of the Keire family. “Who are you talking about and what does this have to do with me?”
“Pern Keire, Quinton’s older brother, launched the war bride program.”
“I’m aware.” Xorran carefully controlled his expression. War brides and their battle born children. He shuddered. He’d always found the practice of capturing Bilarrian females and forcing them to breed in the hopes of producing children empowered by magic dishonorable, but his place was not to question long-established practices. He was battle born, as were the vast majority of his friends.
“Pern had four war brides that we know of, likely more.”
Paytor’s nonchalance increased the tension already gathering in Xorran’s gut. Paytor was elite. He had no idea how it felt to be battle born. He’d never experienced the disdain or indignation the b
attle born endured on a daily basis. They were treated with disrespect and scorn because of the way in which they’d been conceived, a circumstance over which they had no control.
“Are you listening?” Paytor snapped. “Your mind is clearly in another sector.”
Paytor had no idea how often his mind drifted off to another sector, Earth controlled space to be exact. “No, sir. I’m here with you.” Loyalty and honor required that he remain. He’d always played by the rules, always followed orders. Without honor, life had no meaning.
Paytor’s chin lifted and challenge flashed in his dark eyes. “What did I just say?”
“That my mind appeared to be in another sector.”
He glared, but the irritation melted from his gaze. “Smartass.”
“Pern Kiere had at least four war brides, which means he had many battle born children.”
“Very good. He had at least eleven, but he only legitimized two.”
That snapped Xorran back to the present and fully engaged his attention. “You’ve located his legitimized children?”
“Only one is still alive.” Then something unexpected happened. Paytor grinned like a mischievous child. Xorran had never seen anything like it, not on AG Paytor’s weathered face. “And we only need one to retake the throne of Rodymia.”
We? What in hells rings did this have to do with him? “I presume you have a plan.”
“Of course I have a plan.” And as suddenly as the amusement appeared, it was gone. Paytor was all business again. “The Triad won’t know what hit them. It’s a daughter, which is disappointing, but she’s by far our best option. How can the battle born possibly object to their new queen? I’ll be putting one of their own on the throne.”
“And the elite will accept her as well because Pern Keire’s blood flows through her veins,” Xorran realized, reluctantly impressed with Paytor’s solution.
“Tandori Tribe will fade back into obscurity where it belongs, and order will be restored to Rodymia.”
Xorran nodded as the possibilities began to form within his mind. Rodymia had always been ruled by a monarch. The people had only demanded change when the reigning monarch proved unworthy of the title crown stirate. “What role will I play in this endeavor?”
“You’ll be my eyes and ears every step of the way. I’ll present you as an advocate, an adviser, who will offer guidance and protection for our queen, but in reality you’ll keep me informed of every development.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of Xorran’s mouth. He’d been irritated by the interruption, but this sounded exciting, perhaps even fun. “When do we leave, sir?”
“As soon as possible. We need to strike before the Triad gets too comfortable.”
* * * * *
Seaview Palace, Erotious region
Planet Bilarri
Mirella Menjani folded her hands in her lap and wiped any hint of emotion from her face. She was good at hiding her feelings, had found a serene expression and attentive mind much more useful than tears or fits of temper. She sat on one of the richly upholstered sofas in the gold salon silently watching Apex General Paytor attempt to intimidate her grandmother. It had been obvious from their first exchange that Queen Aurelia was not impressed by his scowls or cutting tone. He might have thousands of Rodyte soldiers under his command, but she ruled the most densely populated region on Bilarri. Each was well used to the power they wielded and having their orders obeyed.
As the two main players in this live drama faced off, Mirella’s attention drifted toward the secondary character. He stood near the door in full battle regalia, sculpted black-and-gold armor, helmet tucked under one arm. The sheer size of the man, along with the brutality of his features, told her he was battle born. His short brown hair was just long enough on top to reveal a subtle wave as it flowed back from his face. He’d looked at her as he entered the room, one quick assessing glance, but he stared straight ahead now, his stern features revealing nothing. Was he Paytor’s personal guard or did he have a more direct part to play in this little drama?
“I don’t mean to be rude.” Whenever Queen Aurelia began a sentence that way it meant she had no intention of remaining civil. “I made it clear in my message that Mirella has no interest in returning to Rodymia, now or in the future.”
The statement made Mirella tense. Her grandmother had no idea what she wanted or in what she was interested because Queen Aurelia never bothered to ask. Like many other power-hungry people, Queen Aurelia issued directives and expected them to be carried out without delay. Mirella had learned that lesson the day she’d first met her grandmother and there had been nothing in Queen Aurelia’s behavior since to contradict the first impression.
The queen’s hostility wasn’t surprising. Bilarri and Rodymia had been at war for decades. Technically AG Paytor was her enemy. With Mirella, however, the situation was much more complicated. Her father had been Rodyte, so her loyalties had always felt torn.
“I’m not sure you understand the situation.” Apex General Paytor was a tall, lean man in his later years. His dark hair had odd blue streaks zigzagging through it and incandescent blue rings separated his pupils from is night-black irises. Rodytes called the rings phitons and they responded to strong emotions, making it hard for either race to conceal their feelings. He stood in the middle of the spacious room, as did Queen Aurelia, each too stubborn to sit while the other stood. He clasped his hands behind his back and his eyes gleamed dangerously. “Quinton Keire was captured by the traitorous battle born rebels. They are rash and reckless. It’s unlikely Quinton will survive captivity.”
Queen Aurelia waved away his concern. “I have no interest in Rodyte politics.” Dressed in an elaborate gown of crimson and gold, she looked every inch the monarch. Her snow-white hair had been swept up into an intricate twist that was partially hidden by the gown’s matching headpiece. Though her face was heavily lined and wrinkled, her gray-blue eyes remained clear, sharply assessing. A harmless mutation in the royal bloodline produced eyes with no visible phitons. The incandescent rings were still there. However, they were the same color as the irises, so they were only visible when they began to glow.
The general clenched his jaw as he turned and looked at Mirella. “What about you, Princess? Are you at all interested in the politics of your people?”
“We are her people,” Queen Aurelia snapped. “Bilarri is her home.”
“Her mother was Bilarrian, but her father was Pern Keire, Crown Stirate of Rodymia.”
Her father’s name always sent conflicting emotions twisting through her being. She’d been eleven when Pern was murdered, so she remembered him clearly, recalled all the contradictions in his volatile personality. He ended lives without hesitation and ordered unspeakable acts of violence without batting an eye, yet he’d been kind and indulgent with her mother, his favorite war bride.
“How did you learn of my background?” He’d likely explained it all to Queen Aurelia, but Mirella had yet to hear the explanation. “Pern himself did not know my mother’s true identity.”
“I’d always had suspicions that she was someone of importance. Quinton’s capture gave me reason to pursue those suspicions.”
“That didn’t answer the question,” she pointed out.
“I spoke with her handmaiden. The woman was shockingly loyal, considering that your mother has passed beyond, but in the end we came to an understanding.”
Mirella shivered. She could imagine what the servant must have suffered before coming to an understanding with this brutal man. “Does she still live?”
“Of course.” He even managed to sound insulted by the implication.
“Unlike my grandmother, I have been following the rebellion.” Mirella’s admission earned her a glare from Queen Aurelia. “I was aware of Uncle Quinton’s capture, but I’m not sure what you want me to do about it.”
AG Paytor took a step toward the sofa on which Mirella sat. Her body guards immediately flanked her, silently warning him to
come no closer. “If Quinton doesn’t survive captivity, you’re next in line for the throne of Rodymia. Surely you know that.”
“As I understand it, a three-person council has taken the place of the crown stirate. My lineage doesn’t seem to mean what it once did.” Which was fine by her. She had no urgent desire to rule a planet she hadn’t seen in fifteen years. Very few on Rodymia even knew she existed and she was happy to leave it that way.
“My daughter fled Rodymia in terror when Pern was murdered.” Queen Aurelia sounded angry and impatient. “It’s Rodyte custom to slaughter the remaining heirs of a fallen monarch.”
“Such had been the case in ages past,” Paytor conceded, “but Sevrin, Pern’s other daughter, is proof that Quinton would not have ‘slaughtered’ your daughter or Mirella had they remained.”
“And yet Sevrin, too, is now dead,” Queen Aurelia pointed out.
The general puffed out his chest, but his voice remained steady when he spoke. “She was murdered on Earth. Quinton had nothing to do with it.”
“So you say.” Queen Aurelia continued to glare at him, obviously unwilling to bend in any way. “There is no reason for my granddaughter to put herself in danger. She will stay here, where she belongs.”
Rather than argue with Queen Aurelia, AG Paytor resumed his conversation with Mirella. “There are many on Rodymia still loyal to your father. He was much more popular than his younger brother. The elite in its entirety will welcome you with open arms. The planet is in chaos, Your Highness, and the battle born have scampered off to Earth on a foolish quest for magic.”
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